


I Get Overwhelmed

by kiraisstillhere



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Fall Exchange 2020, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Massage, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Twin bonding, aaron also has a trauma response, and andrew is there to talk, andrew has a nightmare, kevin actually has a ptsd response, matt helps him through it, neil is there for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26554936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiraisstillhere/pseuds/kiraisstillhere
Summary: A short collection of panic attacks, and the ways people help with them.
Relationships: Matt Boyd/Kevin Day, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79
Collections: AFTG Exchange Fall 2020





	I Get Overwhelmed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leloqier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leloqier/gifts).



> for the aftg exchange 2020!
> 
> your prompts were wonderful and i had a lot of fun coming up with this for you!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> title from [overwhelmed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=taF33lNXngY) by royal & the serpent

**Matt/Kevin:**

It started off as a nice day. It really did.

Matt had gone to get groceries for the dorm, promising to be back sooner rather than later. They needed more vegetables - he and Kevin went through their fresh produce painfully fast for two people.

Kevin was currently chopping into a watermelon, filling up a bowl with chunks of it to put in the fridge for later. ESPN droned on in the background, talking about the upcoming NFL season and baseball stats for people that Kevin didn’t care about.

“When we come back from these commercials, we’ll have an exclusive on the late Riko Moriyama - his rise to fame and his sudden death…”

Kevin dropped the knife.

Its point embedded itself in the wood of the cutting board, narrowly missing the fingers on Kevin’s right hand. Pain shocked its way up his left arm, the sharp kind that could only mean broken bones and wrecked tendons, and Kevin clutched his suddenly crumpled hand to his chest.

_Riko._

_Riko._

“ _Riko_!”

Kevin’s voice was hoarse from the screaming. From the sobbing. From the begging and wallowing and horrible weight of knowing that he had fucked up.

The lights of Court bore down on the center of the plexiglass box, Kevin on his knees in front of Riko, his left hand beneath the King’s foot. He coughed out what should have been crying, choking from the sensation of white-hot pain.

“Get the fuck out,” Riko spat, lifting his foot away from Kevin’s hand. Kevin almost keeled over from the change in pressure.

Riko curled his lip at him one more time before stalking away, the door banging behind him. Kevin sat alone on the court, shaking breaths turned to quiet shudders as he gingerly pulled his left hand to his chest, cradling it carefully.

_Find the Foxes._

Coach Wymack couldn’t protect him forever, but it was worth a shot. He just had to get out. Riko had told him to get out - he wouldn’t be missed, that much was true.

Fuck, his hand hurt.

Actually, it didn’t hurt. It was beyond hurt. The shock and adrenaline had reached the point where Kevin felt like he was floating as he slowly stood from where he was, standing in a singular light that had been left.

Kevin Day, spotlighted on the Raven’s court one last time.

He made his way off court and down to the dorms, his thoughts racing. 

_Find the Foxes. Find a foxhole. Dig down and bunker until the world around you stops attacking._

Once he was back to his dorm room in one piece, broken but breathing, and he began packing his things, frantically shoving anything that he could fit into the duffel bag he took for away games.

_Find the Foxes._

Kevin felt his heart pounding in his chest, tears finally welling in his eyes. He packed until his right hand was shaking so badly that his fingers couldn’t grip his clothes anymore. His breath caught against his throat as he tried to force down the feeling of his stomach rolling.

He just had to _stop_ for a moment.

_Can’t stop, can’t stop, you’ll die you’ll die you’ll die._

He couldn’t hold anything - it would be useless to add more to the mess. That, and the blood in his head was rushing, making him feel woozy on his feet.

There was too much going on, Kevin realized. The lights in his room and the clutter on his bed and the fact that he couldn’t figure out if the footsteps he heard outside his door were real or not made the room spin and Kevin just needed to _stop_.

The desk in his room sat away from the wall, a space that Kevin had made his own since he was old enough to understand the slaps on his cheek when he fucked up.

_Find the Foxes._

He crawled there now, pulled his knees up to shelter his crushed hand from the world. Laid his head against the wall and hoped that he would be okay.

—

Matt nearly dropped the groceries when he came in the door. Kevin liked a clean space, and the kitchen being left a mess was a jarring thing to come back to.

Half of a watermelon sat on the cutting board, waiting to be put in the bowl next to it. The knife Kevin must have been using was impaled into the wood of the board, angled like it was a lucky drop that barely missed a hand.

Kevin himself was nowhere to be found.

“Now, our exclusive on Riko Moriyama…” the television announced.

Matt felt his lip curl and he set the groceries down on their counter before walking over to their living space and turned the annoyance off. No one wanted to hear about that asshole, and never would be too soon for Matt.

Besides, he had bigger problems to handle. Namely, his boyfriend and the disappearing act he’d pulled in the half hour that Matt had been gone.

Thoughts of Kevin leaving with Andrew and the others, or going to Wymack’s, or maybe to go practice at the stadium circled through Matt’s head, but none of them made sense with the fact that Kevin had left food out.

Which meant something bad happened. Something to do with Riko? The hosts on television _had_ said they were doing an exclusive on him.

Riko meant that Kevin had probably been triggered, and Kevin being triggered meant he was going to make himself scarce until he could present himself as put-together again.

A gentle thud from their bedroom told Matt that maybe Kevin was going to be easier to find than originally planned. He approached the room, gently pushing the door open to see Kevin’s socked feet poking out from next to his desk. The thud must have been Kevin knocking his head against the wall while he fit himself in the space.

Matt walked up slowly, doing his best to be as non-threatening as possible, kneeling down and taking in the sight of his giant of a boyfriend pressing himself into the smallest space possible. Kevin had his knees drawn up, and was clutching his left hand to his chest, the way he had when he’d come to the Foxes for the first time.

Watching the way that Kevin’s eyes scanned the room, Matt realized that Kevin wasn’t in the present. It was clear that he was having a panic attack, but there was something more to it - Kevin wasn’t seeing the same thing that Matt was seeing, that much was obvious. He would have reacted by now, and he certainly wouldn’t have been holding his hand like… 

Like the first time Matt met him. Wymack had woken Matt up at ass-o’clock in the morning to make a drive to West Virginia, where Matt stood guard at a gas station as Wymack called Abby and asked how to emergency set a broken hand for a six hour drive.

“Kevin,” Matt said, trying his best to sound nice but firm as he crouched down a few feet away from his boyfriend. “Kevin. This is your boyfriend, Matt. You’re safe. You’re at our dorm in South Carolina, and nothing bad is happening to you.”

“South Carolina,” Kevin mumbled. “I need to find the Foxes. They’re in South Carolina.”

Matt held back the sad sigh that dared leave his lips. “You found us, Kevin. You’re in South Carolina. You’re with me, Matt, in South Carolina, in the Palmetto dorms. You are a Fox, and nothing bad is happening to you.”

Kevin’s body started to relax a bit, his legs sliding out a bit and his hands starting to loosen. Matt watched as his breathing started to even out, and his eyes started to focus again. God, how long had he been like that?

“You are Kevin Day, and you are a Fox,” Matt said. “You are in your dorm at Palmetto State University. You are with me, Matt, your boyfriend. Nothing bad is happening to you.”

Kevin’s hands dropped into his lap completely, and he turned his head to look at Matt. He blinked slowly, furrowed his brows, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing reality.

“Matt?”

“What’s up, Kev?”

Kevin blinked his eyes again. “So you _are_ here.”

Matt nodded. “You want a blanket? You’re shaking a little.”

“A blanket…” Kevin said, like he couldn’t quite grasp the thought. He lifted his hands and Matt saw his trembling fingers. “A blanket would be nice.”

Kevin looked exhausted. He looked like he’d just been to hell and back, hours of his trauma played out in thirty minutes. Matt couldn’t begin to imagine the feeling of being unable to escape from his brain’s made-up reality.

Matt got up and grabbed his favorite fleecy blanket from their bed, making a mental note to get a weighted blanket in case Kevin had another flashback. Neil had mentioned that buying one had helped with both his and Andrew’s nightmares. He wrapped it around Kevin’s shoulders, taking care to keep it snug but not suffocating around his throat.

“I’m gonna finish cutting up the watermelon, you wanna come sit while I do it?”

Kevin readjusted the blanket and looked up at Matt. “I forgot about the watermelon. I’m sorry.”

Matt smiled softly. It was a little disheartening that Kevin was worried about forgetting such a small thing, especially after his brain had just supplied him with a nightmarish moment. “Don’t worry about it, babes. I’m glad you’re safe. And that you know you’re safe.”

Kevin smiled softly up at him, and adjusted the blanket around his shoulders again. Matt couldn’t help but think about how different this Kevin, _his_ Kevin, was from the Kevin that everyone knew publicly.

“Can I kiss you, Kev?” Matt asked.

Kevin thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Matt leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Kevin’s forehead. People didn’t think enough about being gentle with Kevin, Matt thought. It must be his duty to show him.

Matt pulled away with a cheery smile. “I’m gonna go cut the watermelon. I don’t want it getting funky in the heat.”

A disgruntled huff made Kevin scrunch up his nose in mock irritation. “You ass,” Kevin said starkly. “I thought you meant a kiss on the _lips_.”

“Hmm,” Matt said, emphasizing his casualty. “I guess I never did specify. Guess you can get a kiss on the lips after I put the groceries away.”

“ _‘After I put the groceries away’_ what am I? Chopped liver?”

“Mm, no, I don’t like liver,” Matt said cheekily. “But I like you, so I think that counts for something.”

Behind him, he heard Kevin mumbling as the striker freed himself from his safe bubble. Matt walked out to the kitchen with the gentle sounds of Kevin’s complaints following behind him.

\--

**Andrew/Neil**

Ragged breathing was what woke Neil up. Since getting into college and moving up in the world of exy, he’d learned that he was actually a fairly heavy sleeper, a fact that plagued everyone on every team he’d been on. Neil Josten, who could sleep literally anywhere.

But Andrew’s breathing? That was something that Neil would always wake up to.

His breathing was heavy, and it sounded like it hurt. Andrew’s hand was gripping Neil’s tight, and Neil knew that could only mean he’d had another nightmare.

Neil blinked open his eyes to find the silhouette of Andrew with his knees pulled up, gently rocking himself back and forth on the bed. His head was pressed against his knees and he had one hand over the back of his neck, holding himself together.

“Andrew?” Neil asked softly. “I’m gonna turn on the light, okay?”

Andrew squeezed his hand twice. _Yes._

Neil reached over to the nightstand and turned the lamp on to the lowest light setting. He grateful for their non-verbal communication. They’d developed it quickly, after the first nightmare that had shaken Neil awake, when he couldn’t talk to Andrew because the very thought of speaking made his head spin.

“Can you talk to me?”

One squeeze. _No._

Andrew kept rocking himself, holding himself together with the hand on the back of his neck. Neil took his book off of the nightstand, one about French history that Kevin had insisted he’d like, and started reading. He kept a tight hold on Andrew’s hand.

An hour went by, Neil keeping quietly to himself while Andrew calmed down. When he felt his eyelids starting to droop, he rubbed his thumb gently over the back of Andrew’s hand, and watched as Andrew slowly brought his head up from his knees. His hand stayed on the back of his neck, but he turned to look at Neil. His eyes were watery, but Neil couldn’t see any of the tears.

“Was tonight’s a bad one?” Neil asked softly. He didn’t need, or want, to know the gory details. He just had to know where Andrew was mentally.

One squeeze. A pause, then another squeeze hesitantly followed.

 _A really bad one_.

It wasn’t a new thing for Andrew to have nightmares. He’d certainly been through his own personal hell, and the feelings were bound to be there for years to come. Neil was fine with holding Andrew’s hand through every one.

Andrew didn’t often lie about his nightmares. He trusted Neil to keep his mouth shut and take every boundary as it was established, and Neil was happy to oblige. The hesitant _yes_ was a way for Andrew to offer a _maybe_ when he didn’t know where he stood.

A maybe that offered Neil the chance to figure out how Andrew was _really_ doing. There was a pattern to Andrew’s panic, one that Neil had memorized without fail. Andrew brought himself back to reality, took in the space around him, and then would let himself finally relax.

“Was it about him?”

One squeeze.

“Was it about it?”

One squeeze.

“Was it about there?”

Two squeezes.

At times like these, they communicated in adverbs and pronouns a lot. Him. _Drake_ . It. _You know what._ There. _Easthaven._ A yes for the final one, and Neil knew that Andrew was probably going to stay awake for the night. Neil grabbed his book again, determined to make sure Andrew knew that he was safe.

“Go to sleep, dumbass,” Andrew mumbled. Neill looked over to see that he was laying his head on his knees again, but looking at Neil.

“Don’t want to until you’re safe,” Neil said through a yawn. Maybe his book was just boring.

“I am,” Andrew said, voice quiet but commanding. His voice said _Neil, go to sleep._ His voice said _Neil, I am not okay, but I am trying to be._

In the warm yellow glow of the lamplight, the shadows caught on the lines of Andrew’s face. The slope of his nose, the angle of his jaw, and the darkness under his eyes all were emphasized, bathed in a honey glow. He looked tired, Neil thought. It had been years, and Andrew had gotten a lot of the support he’d needed, but every now and then Neil caught sight of a lifetime of exhaustion etched into Andrew’s face.

Andrew’s shoulders still hadn’t relaxed. His body was still pulled in tight, protecting himself from an outside world that had never been kind.

Neil scooted himself closer to Andrew, kicking his side of the blankets down to even them out with the bunched mess that Andrew had made.

“Can I sit behind you?” Neil asked, careful to give Andrew his space. “And can I touch you?” He waited patiently for a response, ready to go with whatever Andrew said.

After a few seconds, Andrew nodded. “Yes,” he said. “To both.”

With permission given, Neil carefully pushed Andrew’s pillow out of the way and situated himself behind Andrew. He crossed his legs and let his knees gently rest against the dimples in Andrew’s back.

For a moment, Neil just sat and admired Andrew’s back. After so long together, he could probably map out every curve and dip of the muscles, from Andrew’s shoulders to his hips, with his eyes closed. Neil was certain that he knew Andrew better than he knew the back of his own hand. He took a breath and reached forward.

He started at the base of Andrew’s neck, thumbs pressed into the muscle beneath Andrew’s hand. From there, Neil worked his hands across Andrew’s shoulders, feeling the tight knots beneath the skin, weeks of practices and lack of stretching taking their toll on him.

Neil moved his hands lower, working the tension out of Andrew’s lats, idly humming some slow song he’d heard on the radio. It was easy to see how the anxiety bled from Andrew; he straightened from the hunch he’d curled into, sitting up straighter at Neil’s touch. He hissed through his teeth when Neil dug into a particularly tight knot that sat above the small of his back.

They sat in comfortable silence, the room nothing more than lamplight and Neil’s singing over the scrunching of Andrew’s shirt. Neil felt content, happy to massage away some of the hurt that Andrew carried with him.

He only stopped when Andrew yawned, resting his hands lightly on Andrew’s shoulders as they rose and fell. Andrew turned to look behind himself. Neil saw that his eyes were still red, and a bit puffy from the silent crying that Neil had woken up to, but he looked more relaxed overall.

Neil offered a small smile. “Better?”

“Better,” Andrew answered. His voice was slightly raspy, though Neil was unsure if it was from not speaking, or from the tears. Probably a mix of both.

“Better enough that you can lay down?” Neil asked, moving to his side of the bed and putting Andrew’s pillow back into place.

Andrew pondered the thought for a moment, then stretched his legs out and readjusted his pillow. Neil reached down to tug the blankets up over their legs and laid down, turning on his side to face Andrew. It took him a few moments, but Andrew pulled the covers up over the both of them and laid down facing Neil.

“You forgot the lamp,” Andrew said, his voice a little muffled by his cheek being smushed against the pillow. “And get that stupid smile off your face.”

Neil didn’t plan on getting rid of his smile anytime soon. Andrew would just have to live with that fact.

“Hey, ‘Drew?” Neil asked, blinking sleepily.

Andrew raised his brows.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Andrew mumbled. He leaned forward to Neil’s pillow, and pressed their lips together softly.

Neil smiled against his lips, the kiss slow and sweet, lazy as they both took in each other’s presence. He swore that he could feel Andrew’s own small smile, but he would never kiss and tell.

They pulled apart and Neil got comfortable again.

“You forgot the lamp,” Andrew repeated, looking like he was barely able to keep his eyes open much longer.

“I want to keep it on tonight,” Neil answered.

Andrew harumphed. “Fair enough.”

Neil was still facing Andrew when he closed his eyes.

\--

**Twinyards:**

_Trapped_.

That’s how Aaron felt. He was nervously cracking his knuckles in the bathroom, the bright light from behind the mirror buzzing around in his head. Or maybe it was just the blood rushing in his ears. Along with his fingers, Aaron was chewing on his bottom lip as silent tears ran down his face.

Trapped. He was fucking trapped in a bathroom and there was no way out as he paced back and forth along the tile. The door was locked, and there was no way out, and Aaron could feel his heart beating in his throat as he switched from cracking his knuckles to curling his hands into fists and releasing them again. He was probably grinding his teeth too, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The team was spending the night in a hotel before their early flight back to South Carolina from Los Angeles. Aaron was rooming with Nicky, and he could hear his cousin speaking on the phone in a hushed voice.

They thought he was using again. That had to be it. No, it couldn’t. There was no way they would think that. But maybe they _did_. God, what if Andrew and Nicky thought he was using again? What if Nicky was on the phone with Andrew right now, telling him how Wymack was letting them stay behind, just in case?

But he _wasn’t_ using, Aaron reminded himself. He barely registered that he was now pulling at his hair - not hard enough to pull it out, but enough to remind him that he could. Aaron was trying to think of what could have prompted the idea that he had relapsed, but he was coming up blank.

Aaron was trapped, and he couldn’t possibly explain that he wasn’t doing anything without sounding like he was making excuses, especially if Nicky wasn’t going to listen to him.

What if it had been a trick? What if Nicky had been waiting for him to come back, just to stick him in the bathroom?

Aaron felt his mouth open in a silent sob, the kind that would’ve hurt if it was real - the kind of hurt that felt like it was clawing its way up and out. His whole chest felt tight, his heart hammering against the wall of his ribcage as it dared to break free. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten to the door, but he felt his knees buckle as he sank down against the wall by the door.

“Help,” he groaned weakly, voice thick with tears that he didn’t know had fallen. “Nicky…”

Soft footsteps padded on the carpeting outside the bathroom. “I’m here, Aaron,” Nicky said. “I’m gonna be here with you the whole time.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Aaron felt like he wanted to throw up. His stomach was turning. He wanted to bang his head into the wall, but Wymack would be less than pleased if Aaron gave himself a concussion.

He heard a sigh on the other side of the door. Disappointment? Anger? Distrust? Aaron hated the way that he didn’t know.

“I know,” Nicky said gently. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Aaron finally let himself break down, his shoulders shaking.

“Nicky, I- I didn’t do anything,” he begged. It was the best he could do with where he was. “You _have_ to believe me. I wouldn’t- I _couldn’t_ do that to you, or Andrew, or…”

His muscles were wound so tightly that Aaron was sure he’d break if Nicky said anything else. He dropped his head into hands, pressing his fingertips into his scalp. His hands were tied - there was nothing that he could do if Nicky didn’t believe him.

“I know,” Nicky said again, soft and slow. “Aaron, the lock is jammed. I called Andrew so I could go get someone.”

“No, no, no, no,” Aaron fell into a jumble of protest, a fresh wave of tears falling. There was a vague feeling of a scream bubbling up in his throat. “He’s gonna… Nicky he’s gonna make me stay in here _forever_ , tell him I didn’t do anything.”

Trapped in the bathroom. Just like when he was sixteen. The faint memory of splinters beneath his fingernails still sent goosebumps up his arms, and his throat burned with the echoes of desperate wails to _let me out let me out let me out_.

“Aaron.”

Andrew’s voice hung heavy in the hair, loud even through the door. “Nicky went to get Wymack. They’re going to get a staff member to help us.”

“I want out,” Aaron mumbled. “I’m not doing anything. You have to believe me.”

“I do.”

He heard a dull thud and the hinges rattled as Andrew leaned against the door, followed by him sliding down the wood. Aaron brought his hand up to his side of the door, watching the way that his fingers trembled. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was painfully similar to the feeling of the detox so many years before.

“Hey,” Andrew said through the door. His voice was eerily comforting, a gentleness that Andrew didn’t often hold.

“Aaron,” Andrew said again. “Do you… do you remember that AP psychology class that we took in junior year? The one with-”

“With the stupidly biased teacher?” Aaron asked, his voice wavering. A cautious smile spread across his face. God, he’d hated that class.

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” Andrew said with an almost-laugh. “You remember how he said that people just needed a cocktail of medications and that therapy was useless?”

Aaron nodded, then realized that Andrew couldn’t see it. “It was right after you’d started your meds. He was such a dickhead.”

“You got so mad.” Andrew’s voice got a little louder as he turned to face the door more. “You argued and said that no one deserved to be on medications without the full knowledge of what was going to happen to them.”

Aaron furrowed his brows, pausing for a moment. “I thought you were asleep when that happened.”

He heard Andrew’s snort through the wood. “Not quite. I never said anything about it. But,” there was a pause, Aaron waiting for the end.

“Thank you,” Andrew finished. “For not agreeing with him.”

Aaron wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but a _thank you_ hadn’t even been in his realm of possibility. The story had taken Aaron’s mind off of the panic that had been overwhelming his system since he’d first realized that he was stuck.

An uncomfortable silence fell between him and the brother who’d never thanked him for anything before. It was a silence that dug deep into Aaron’s bones, making jitters run through his mind. He shuffled so that he was resting his back against the door. He wondered if Andrew was parallel to him, facing the outside world the way Aaron always had.

Aaron broke the silence first time. “Do you remember that PE class from sophomore year? Where we played exy together for the first time?”

Another snort from Andrew. “The infamous Twinyards. Inseparable, no matter how hard the teacher tried.”

Aaron let out a short laugh. “Remember when they tried to stop us from playing our positions? Said we’d be better as strikers. Look at us now.”

“Yeah, look at us now. Got a university paying for us to play stickball for them,” Andrew muttered, though there was less contempt for the sport.

Talking with Andrew was a strange experience. It was different than their appointments with Bee, or from the times that Andrew had forced promises down his throat. This was just… _talking_. They were sharing memories and laughing and smiling as best they could. The initial panic of being trapped had passed, and Aaron was beginning to breathe a little easier.

“Hey,” Andrew said, a bit louder. “You know you’re safe. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I told you I wouldn’t.”

Aaron was about to respond when there was a clunking click as a key card opened the door to the hotel room.

“How’s he doing?” Wymack’s rough voice was a welcome change to the strange softness that Andrew had shown.

“You know how Josten says he’s fine?” Andrew prompted. “The opposite of that.”

Aaron suppressed a laugh. Of course Andrew would use this as an opportunity to insult Josten.

“Let’s get this off, and we’ll be able to get him out.”

A new voice spoke up, and Aaron assumed was the staff member that Wymack and Nicky had found. He sat up and distanced himself from the door, dropping his knees into a criss-cross and whipping the semi-dried tear tracks from his cheeks.

There was a scraping against the wood, and the sound of twisting metal, and then a loud breaking sound, followed by the bathroom door slowly swinging open. Aaron stayed sitting for a moment, his brain trying to register the fact that he was able to get up and walk out.

Andrew came in first, in his sweats and grey t-shirt. His hair was wet, and his armbands were pulled on unevenly, like he’d rushed over after a shower. He stood over Aaron for a moment, then sat down.

Hazel eyes that matched his own analyzed Aaron’s face. Andrew studied Aaron for a moment in silence. Aaron barely registered that Wymack was standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. It was almost like he was blocking them off from the others.

“You’re safe,” Andrew murmured as he met Aaron’s eyes. It wasn’t a question - it was a statement that Aaron was safe, would always be safe.

“Thank you for sitting with me,” Aaron mumbled back, not breaking eye contact.

Andrew stared a moment longer, and then slowly pulled Aaron into a hug, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s back and holding him tight. Aaron matched him, holding on to Andrew like he might lose him again. 

They pulled apart and stared at each other once again.

Wymack cleared his throat. “Are you two done? I have a coffee that I’d like to get to before Kevin gets his hands on it.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow at Aaron, and Aaron nodded back.

“Yeah, Coach, we’re finished,” Andrew said, standing up. He reached a hand out and helped Aaron up. Nicky’s smiling face appeared from behind Wymack’s shoulder.

Aaron gave a half-assed thumbs up and Nicky nodded. Wymack stood aside, and Andrew and Aaron walked out of the bathroom to their small hotel room

Aaron was safe. Aaron was safe, and supported, and people _worried_ about him. Worried about him enough to sit with him through a panic attack, worried about him enough to get someone to help. It was a new feeling to Aaron, being cared about - not unwelcome, just different.

He could get used to it.

**Author's Note:**

> come yell with me about aftg on [twitter](https://twitter.com/cybbetta) and [tumblr](https://www.alvarezforthegame.tumblr.com)!!


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